


Moving On

by AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bitter Eliza, Character Death, Depression, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Heavy Angst, Male-Female Friendship, Moving On, Past Aaron Burr/Theodosia Prevost Burr - Freeform, Past Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9133201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed/pseuds/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed
Summary: After Eliza and Aaron are shaken by tremendous loss, they try to find a way to move on. Can they be each other's support in the times that try their souls?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for tons of angst and various character deaths, possible self-harm

“Thanks for meeting me, Eliza,” Aaron said. 

 

“Sure.” Her answer was simple and quiet. 

 

He watched her run a nail over the rim of her glass, staring at the alcohol within, as if it was her lifeline.

 

“I’m sorry about Alexander,” he said quietly. “And Phillip.”

 

“Thanks, she replied colorlessly. “I’m sorry about Theodosia.” 

 

For what must have been the millionth time in the last month, the grief hit him square in the chest. 

 

“Do you think it ever stops?” he asked, and felt almost childish.

 

She shook her head wordlessly. 

 

“I think…” She swirled her drink. “I think all that ‘time heals’ stuff is bullshit. I don’t think it ever really stops. But eventually...you just move on.” 

 

“But how?” he asked.

 

She knocked back the last dregs of her drink. “No idea.” The glass slammed down on the counter. 

 

She pushed back her seat and stood up. “There’s a grief counseling group that meets in the gym on Thursdays at six. I’ll be there. You should come.” 

 

The word “thanks” got stuck in Aaron’s throat as Eliza scribbled something down on a napkin and tossed it at Burr along with a few bills.

 

“Call me if you need me.” 

 

And with that, she left.

  
And Aaron was left with his thoughts and a half-empty glass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: upsetting flashbacks, themes of alcoholism

Sure enough, that Thursday, at six o'clock, Aaron tentatively walked into the city gym. There was a large group of chairs, all arranged in a circle in the middle. A miniscule collection of people were sitting in the chairs, and upon venturing closer, he saw Eliza sitting in one.

 

She glanced up and saw him. He gave a small wave. Unsmiling, she gestured to the empty seat next to her.

 

“Eliza, is this the guest you were telling me about?” Aaron turned to see a young man with close-cropped hair and dark brown eyes.

 

Eliza only nodded.

 

“Welcome. I’m Jonathan Bellamy,” the man said, sticking out a hand. Aaron took it, surprised by the man’s strong grip.

 

“We’re just about to get started,” Jonathan said. “Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

 

Aaron would have said something sarcastic about the limit of comfort a hard plastic chair could give, but refrained and instead sat down next to Eliza.

 

“You came,” she said quietly.

 

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

 

“I wasn’t sure. You’re kind of unpredictable. It always-” she paused before continuing. “It always drove Alexander crazy.”

 

“I know, believe me,” Aaron risked a sad smile. Eliza didn’t return it, but her expression softened noticeably.

 

“Alright, everyone,” Jonathan called. Aaron glanced around, noting that there were only about six people, including the three of them.

 

“Before we begin, I’d like to remind everyone that this is a safe place and nothing leaves this room. We’re all friends here, alright?”

 

Everyone nodded.

 

“How about we go ahead and introduce ourselves?” Jonathan said. “I’m Jonathan Bellamy, as most of you know.”  He nodded at an older man, probably in his late fifties.

 

“Henry Laurens,” the man said. Jonathan nodded, then looked to a young woman.

 

“Maria Lewis.”

 

And so on.

 

“Dolley Payne Todd.”

 

“Eliza Schuyler.”

 

All eyes were on him. He shifted uneasily. “A-Aaron Burr.”

 

“Aaron is a new addition to our small group, so let’s do our best to make comfortable, alright?” Jonathan asked the group. A murmur of assent ran through the group.

 

“Okay. Who’d like to start us off tonight?”

 

The older man, Henry, raised his hand.

 

“Go ahead, Henry.”

 

Henry cleared his throat. “Well, I was cleaning out the house the other day,” he began. “You know, just some spring cleaning? Anyway, I was in the attic when I...when I found them.”

 

“Found what, Henry?” Jonathan said gently.

 

“Pictures. Little ones, of him when he was younger. Probably eight or so,” Henry said shakily. “And, I don’t know, it’s like it came rushing back all at once; like the pictures were reminding me I didn’t have him anymore-” Henry broke off. There were a few moments of silence before he went on.

 

“And today, I was just thinking how if I had tried to stop John from joining the Army, I might still have him. I mean, I’m proud of him, for defending the country, I just-” He gestured helplessly.

 

“I want my son back,” he finished. “That’s all.”

 

The woman sitting next to him, Maria, Aaron was sure her name was, put a hand on Henry’s shoulder.

 

“Thank you for sharing with us, Henry,” Jonathan said solemnly. “It can be difficult to remember losses. It is important, however, to remember that you are never alone in healing, and that we are all always available for discussions and meetings.”

 

Henry nodded.

 

“Would anyone else- Eliza?”

 

Aaron glanced over at Eliza, who straightened up, carrying herself the way she had before the tragedy of what had happened to Alexander and Phillip. The slump in her shoulders was gone.

 

“I keep dreaming that they’re okay, that I’m still living life the way it used to, like what happened was only a nightmare. But then I wake up and-” Her voice broke. “The nightmare is reality. Last week, on Friday, for a split second, I thought, _I bet Phillip is so happy he doesn’t have school tomorrow-_ and then I remembered.”

 

She held up a hand as Jonathan was about to say something. “I don’t want to hear anything. I just...I just wish my mind would stop playing tricks on me.” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and everyone sat in silence for a minute or two. Aaron got the sense that Eliza wouldn’t want a comforting hand, but was surprised when Dolley placed her hand on Eliza’s, who covered up the gesture with her own hand.

 

The meeting only lasted an hour, and Aaron was surprised that no one prompted him to talk about the reason he was there; not that he wanted to talk about Theodosia, not now.

 

The minute Jonathan concluded the meeting, Eliza rose from her chair and departed the room with a startling swiftness, leaving Aaron without a anchor he knew to hold onto.

 

“Aaron?” He turned to face Jonathan’s kind eyes. He tried to look attentive.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you think you’ll be joining us next week?” Jonathan asked, before adding, “No pressure, just curious.”

 

“Probably. Maybe.” It wasn’t like he had anywhere to go.

 

“Alright. Here’s my card if you need to talk to someone one-on-one, okay?” Jonathan handed him a cool blue-green business card.

 

“Thanks,” Aaron said, stuffing it into his pocket.

 

“Sure, also, don’t forget that you don’t have to spill your entire life story. You don’t ever have to share if you don’t want to; you can just come and listen if you want.”

 

“Okay.” Aaron sort of wanted to leave.

 

“I won’t keep you. Let me know if you need anything.” Jonathan clapped him on the shoulder and went to go talk to Henry.

 

Aaron didn’t know what else to do, so he turned and headed for home.

* * *

 

Eliza needed a drink.

 

She wasn’t sure why she’d shared today. It was like her hand had gone up and the words spilled out of their own accord.

 

Sighing, she poured herself a generous measure of wine and leaned back on the couch.

 

“How’d the meeting go?” her sister, Angelica asked.

 

“Fine,” was the only reply as Eliza took a large gulp of wine.

 

“You need to cut back on that,” Angelica remarked, pointing at the wineglass.

 

Eliza chose not to respond.

 

“I’m serious, Betsey. You need to find a better way to cope than alcohol.”

 

“I’ll work on it,” Eliza said tonelessly, having no intention of doing any such thing.

 

“Peggy called. She wants to know if we want to go the museum tomorrow.”

 

Eliza shrugged noncommittally.

“That’s a ‘yes.’ I’ll let Peggy know.”

 

“When are you moving into John Church’s place?” Eliza asked.

 

“Soon, probably. You said that was okay, right?”

 

“For the millionth time, _yes_ ,” Eliza said exasperatedly. “I’m not helpless, I can take care of myself.”

 

Angelica held her hands up in surrender. “Alright. I’ll go call Peggy.”

 

With that she left the room, leaving Eliza alone with memories and a wineglass.

 

_“Alexander, be careful, please,” Eliza said._

 

_“You’re acting like I’ve never driven in rainy weather, ‘Liza,” Alexander laughed._

 

_“Don’t worry, Mom,” their son, Philip said from the backseat. “Dad’s got this.”_

 

_“One day, my cautiousness is going to save all your lives,” Eliza lectured._

 

_“I’m sure it will,”Alexander chuckled, catching Eliza’s hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips._

 

_That was the exact moment Eliza’s life changed, because at that moment, something slammed into the driver’s side of the car, and in a medley of twisted metal and shattered glass and awful screeching, the car spun on the wet road before veering off into a ditch on its side._

 

_More specifically, the driver’s side, where both Alexander and Philip had been sitting._

 

_All Eliza remembered before blacking out was the rain through the broken windows, falling onto Alexander’s form slumped over the steering wheel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am evil... sorry.
> 
> Comment/kudos, please!
> 
> Also please let me know if there are any inaccuracies, particularly with the support group, because I'd like to make this realistic


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: referenced terminal illness, depression, slight mention of alcohol, referenced street violence

_“Did I do okay?” Philip asked as they walked out of the Mercer Community Center._

 

_“‘Okay?’ You did a fantastic job, Philip,” Eliza told him. “I think that’s one of your best piano recitals yet.”_

 

_“Really?” Philip’s freckle-dotted face flushed with pride._

 

_“Definitely,” Alexander said, laying a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Philip.”_

 

_Eliza tried to hold on to Alexander and Philip’s smiles as the dream faded, trying to keep hold of the last wisps of memory._

 

She didn’t want to open her eyes. Maybe, if she kept her eyes closed, she’d fall back asleep.

 

Maybe she’d be nudged awake by Alexander.

 

Maybe the both of them would wake up to the smell of cooking blueberry pancakes, something that Philip did on random occasions.

 

_Get a grip, Eliza. Open your damn eyes._

 

Reluctantly, she forced her eyelids to open, and instantly winced as they were assaulted by the sunbeams peeking through the blinds.

 

She lay there, staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to move. Moving meant getting up, and getting up meant that she was going to have to actually try and go through the motions and get through the day.

 

It was Friday, she remembered. That was the day they always set aside to go out to dinner as a family, to take a break from work and school and life, to catch each other up on the week.

 

She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the city outside the window, the pipes from the above apartment rattling as the occupant took a shower or whatever the reason was for using copious amounts of water.

 

Seeing as Angelica hadn’t woken her up yet, she deduced that her older sister had gone to work. Eliza felt a little guilty for the rush of gratitude she acquired with that realization.

 

She knew Angelica was only trying to help Eliza, and Eliza appreciated her sister being there for her.

 

At the same time, however, she wished her sister had left her be after the accident. Sometimes, a person just wanted to wallow in misery.

 

Angelica was the one who’d come over a week after it had all happened, with Peggy in tow. Together, the two had cleaned up the house and pulled Eliza out of bed, helping her look presentable for the outside world.

 

Peggy was the one who had found the support group, and Angelica was the one who made sure she went.

 

Peggy had eventually gone (under Eliza’s orders) back to France, where she lived with her partner, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette (everyone just called them Lafayette), but Angelica had stuck around, being the older sister she’d been born to be.

 

It drove Eliza insane. She couldn’t wait til Angelica moved in with her boyfriend and Eliza could call herself an independent adult again.

 

Independent...God, what she would have given to not be alone...

 

The incessant ringing of her landline cut through her thoughts. With a groan, she rolled over and buried her face into her pillow. A few moments later it went to voicemail. Alexander’s recorded voice echoed throughout the household. _“You’ve reached the Hamilton residence. None of us are here right now, so you’ll have to call back later. Or we’ll call you back. You know, if we have the time, ha-ha. Have a nice day.”_

 

She’d forgotten about that. Eliza bit her lip, refusing to let herself cry. The voicemail machine beeped and she heard Aaron Burr’s digitized voice.

 

_“Hey, Eliza. Just wanted to know if you were going to the next support group meeting. I’m planning on going, but you know me; I don’t like going into new things on my own. Anyway, give me a call.”_

 

Eliza sighed. Aaron was one of the few people who had an inkling of what she was dealing with. They’d both lost their significant others within the last month, albeit in varying ways.

 

Not to mention Aaron and Theodosia had never gotten around to kids, so Aaron definitely didn’t know what losing a child was like.

 

Still, she had lost Alexander and Philip in the blink of an eye. It had taken far longer for Aaron to lose his wife.

 

Eliza wasn’t sure which was worse.

 

Well, there wasn’t any point in trying to equate their experiences; no one could do that with pain.

 

As if the universe hadn’t given up trying to shove social interaction on her, her cell phone began ringing, vibrating violently on her nightstand.

 

Grumbling she plucked the device off the nightstand, and stared at the display.

 

 _Maria Lewis_ , the display read. Hm.

 

She hit the CALL button and said, “Hello?”

 

“Hey, Eliza,” Maria greeted. “What are you up to?”

 

“Currently trying to make myself drag my own sorry ass out of bed,” Eliza answered.

 

“Got it. Well, if you’re up to it, do you want to meet for coffee? I’ll pay,” Maria offered.

 

“No, you paid last time. I’ll pay this time,” Eliza insisted.

 

“Fair enough. Meet at 11:00?”

 

Eliza checked the time. 9:30. She could make it. “Sure.”

 

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

 

“See you.”

 

Maria hung up. Eliza lay in bed for a few more minutes before making herself sit up.

 

It looked like she was going to have to get through the day.

 

She sighed and slid off the bed, got dressed, and went to call Aaron back.

* * *

 

“How’ve you been, Eliza?” Maria asked her over vanilla cappuccinos at a small, hole-in-the-wall cafe that had become their meeting place over the past month.

 

“I’ve been better,” Eliza replied, wishing her cappuccino was a glass of wine. “I’m tired, mainly. But bad dreams will do that to you,” she added, taking a sip of coffee.

 

Maria nodded sympathetically. She was remarkably well put together for someone who had lost their sister in a failed mugging two months ago. The two had started going to the support group at the same time, and had fused some sort of bond of friendship.

 

“I keep having dreams about Sarah,” she confessed. “Lame things, mainly. Like we’re going furniture shopping or something, and then...well, I wake up.”

 

“Nightmare becomes reality,” Eliza said quietly, echoing her words from the previous night.

 

“Yeah,” Maria said. “You do have such a way with words.”

 

“Not really,” Eliza dismissed. “Alexander, he’s the one…” she trailed off before correcting herself, “... _was_ the one with-with a way with words. Philip too.”

 

Maria put a hand on Eliza’s across the table. A multitude of unspoken words passed between them before Eliza pulled away.

 

“Thanks for inviting me to coffee, Maria, but I should be getting back home; Angelica will kill me if I haven’t cleaned up a little,” she fibbed. Angelica cared about mess, but they didn’t clean until Saturday.

 

Whatever. Eliza cleaned and baked constantly now, to try and distract herself.

 

It seemed ironic. She was trying to get over no longer being in the role of a wife and mother, and here she was, coping by cleaning and baking.

 

She hardly ever baked; that was something Philip had liked doing.  Alexander was only messy when it came to his own things, otherwise things had to be spotless.

 

“Call me if you need me, Eliza,” Maria said softly, seeing the way Eliza’s eyes glazed over in thought.

 

“I will,” Eliza promised. The two women hugged and departed ways.

 

Eliza had to fight to keep herself from walking into a bar on the way home.

* * *

 

Aaron was feeling a little better about the prospect of going to the support meeting on Thursday. Eliza had agreed to meet him somewhere so that they could go together (though for some reason, she insisted on driving).

 

Currently, though, he was too busy reminiscing over a picture of him and Theodosia.

 

His Theo, bright and beautiful, dark brown curls and warm eyes, all smiles.

 

He wished he could keep remembering her this way.

 

It was hard though.

 

He couldn’t stop remembering her lying in a hospital bed, weak and frail, hair gone, struggling to breathe.

 

He didn’t want to remember her that way.

 

But memory was a bitch, and so was fate, it seemed.

 

If remembering hurt this much, he wasn’t sure he could handle talking about it on Thursday.

  
_Keep her memory alive, Aaron,_ he thought. _You owe that to her._

**Author's Note:**

> Comment/kudos, scream, cry, whatever. I'm here.


End file.
